How Much You Mean It
by Alliot
Summary: Vlad thought that it was truly a shame to allow grief and a photograph to waste away a powerful young halfa, but Daniel seemed unable to believe him.
1. Part 1: Something to Live By

_Okay, so a few encouraging reviews that tell me I'm not a total failure at this fanfiction-thing, and I've decided to give it more writing time. I've even got a multi-chapter DP fic in the works. More info in my profile, etcetc, and hey, maybe even one day I won't feel like I'm doing something extremely reckless every time I post fanfiction. _

Summary: Vlad thought that it was truly a shame to allow grief and a photograph to waste away a powerful young halfa, but Daniel seemed unable to believe him.

Use of The Ultimate Enemy back story: the future where Jack, Maddie, Jazz, Sam, Tucker, and Mr. Lancer are killed and Danny is left with Vlad. The photograph and Vlad placing a hand on Danny's shoulder inspired this fic, with support from music by Josh Rouse ("Sad Eyes" and "Life"), Shivaree ("New Casablanca"), Psapp ("Upstairs"), and Sarah Mclachlan ("I Will Remember You.")

Disclaimer: Danny Phantom is owned by a certain Butch Hartman. That ain't me.

**How Much You Mean It**

Vlad Masters periodically went upstairs to check up on Danny. When he did, he'd often find the teenager in the room that was provided for him in his mansion, standing and staring sadly at a framed photograph brought from home. The picture was of Danny with his recently-deceased friends and family – Samantha Manson, Tucker Foley, and Jack, Maddie, and Jazz Fenton - all smiling and looking very happy as they stood outside that monstrous house that was called Fenton Works. When Vlad first inquired about it, Daniel had explained to him that it was from not long after he started his freshman year in high school. So it was recent, Vlad quickly deduced, taken within the past year.

On the days – and there were many of them – that Vlad looked around the door to find Daniel standing there, memorizing and memorizing again the memory behind the picture glass, he would discreetly let himself in and come to stand behind him. Danny had come to accept his occasional presence there, glancing up at him long enough to acknowledge that he was there before resuming his quiet mourning.

Sometimes Daniel would talk about them. They would be small anecdotes that hardly interested Vlad but lent insight into his life, so he would listen. Vlad thought it was for his benefit even as Daniel wouldn't look at him as he talked, instead addressing the photograph.

"There won't be any more hugs from Mom," Danny once said, his voice quiet. "No more crazy ghost-tracking inventions from Dad, no more Jazz to always be nosing around in my business. No more movie marathons with Tucker, and no more Sam to give me advice on the right thing to do…." He trailed off then, his gaze distant. For a moment Vlad had the impression that Daniel had forgotten about his presence entirely, or perhaps he was uncomfortable with saying anything more. Whatever the case, when nothing else was said, they both would let the subjects slip by without mention.

Daniel would then go on to talk about how much he missed those little things, the unique quirks that his friends and family each had. Things that cheered him up after a tough day at school or a difficult battle with a ghost, things he knew that nobody else could replace. Things he previously would never have shared with Vlad – knowing well that the manipulative man would twist it to his advantage - became something he wanted and needed to talk about.

And he would silently ask for Vlad to understand in any way he could. Little cues, like a glance in his direction, a change in tone, or a "You know?" and Vlad would nod in acknowledgment and murmur in ascent while truly having nothing else to say. Thankfully, Daniel seemed to take this as his best effort, or at least accept it as good enough.

Eventually the talking would cease again, and they would both stand there and gaze at the photo for long minutes in each other's company. Many times Danny would lift a hand, and his finger would slowly trace over each person through the glass. Sometimes he'd smile or give a soft laugh at a memory that would come to his mind before his face resettled into his grieving expression. Vlad respectfully didn't ask what he was thinking of, instead running his eyes over each of the faces himself as Daniel's finger slid past them one-by-one.

At the far left was Jack Fenton, grinning like the idiot husband and father that he was. Vlad found himself unsurprised that the large-sized fool had gotten himself killed. He could not regret that he was gone, not even for Daniel's sake, but the reality of his death was strangely unsatisfying. Vlad frowned. Perhaps because the circumstances had stolen his revenge from him.

Next was the always-lovely Maddie, with those stunning amethyst eyes of hers (hidden, sadly, by the headgear of her typical HAZMAT suit), and that sweet smile. The loss of her Vlad sincerely regretted from his heart. Certainly it was an undeserved, tragic end, and if only she had agreed to be with him, she would still be alive! But her choice was made, and now she was gone from his reach forever, not even to be found in the Ghost Zone; he knew - and he sensed that Daniel knew too - that she, like the others, was too kind of a soul to be attached to that realm.

Vlad lingered on her for a moment longer, then swept his eyes more indifferently over the others. Jasmine had been a sweet girl, but she often stuck her nose into business where it didn't belong; Ms. Manson had been a close friend of Daniel's, but far too clever for her own good; Mr. Foley had talent with technology, but overconfident in his own abilities. On more than one occasion, Vlad had felt that all of them had suppressed Daniel's potential and natural ability by being overbearing.

And then there was Daniel, in the center…Vlad would always look at him the longest, comparing him to the young man that stood in front of him now. Daniel did not wear smiles like the one in the photo anymore. Daniel had always had his insecurities and been painfully aware of them, but positive energy and strength of spirit that Vlad had observed in him many times during their encounters over the year flowed from the photographed version of him. He had friends and family beside him there. He was happy.

The Daniel in front of him was a shadow of that and a growing concern for Vlad. His shoulders were slumped and his head hung, weighed down by grief. His eyes did not sparkle with life and he often wandered listlessly about his castle mansion like a true haunt. He did not seek out connections with other people as he used to, either. Occasionally he would be randomly subject to pent-up fits of rage, but otherwise he was quiet and sullen, hiding himself in his room or away from Vlad for long hours at a time.

He had tried to provoke Daniel for any reaction that would give him a sign that the boy was returning to some normalcy, from attempting to be funny or considerate to being honestly annoyed or goading him for a fight, but more often than not the reward was weak smiles or tired glares. The fighting spirit had largely left the ghost boy, Vlad finally realized. He had not seen a touch of silver in Daniel's hair or green in his eyes since before the accident. Daniel's powers were still there, but he wasn't using them.

And he thought it was truly a shame to see this powerful young halfa waste away before him. He spent his waking hours as if he truly were half-dead, he slept without ever seeming rested the next morning, and he was suppressing his ghost side to the point where it hardly existed. As far as Vlad was concerned – and that concern was becoming persistent – it was a self-destructive pattern Daniel was putting himself through, an unnecessary addition to his grievances that had to be stopped.

"Daniel," he began, laying a hand on his shoulder in an almost paternal manner. Daniel responded best to comfort in words and presence, but this time he shrugged off Vlad's attempts.

"Forget it, Vlad," Danny said, turning his head away. His voice was cold and pained and tired. "You don't mean it." His fingers clenched around the picture frame he held so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

Vlad sighed. He understood the reaction, and it would never be unexpected: Daniel did not trust him enough to truly believe that he cared for his well-being. "You should know better than to think that my actions are simply out of malice, Daniel," he told him pointedly. Danny shrugged in response. Yes, it would be difficult to prove himself otherwise, particularly considering the young man's state of mind and reflexive action to push Vlad away whenever he got close.

But Vlad Masters was nothing if not a bit persistent. Daniel needed time to grieve, but this constant dwelling over a photograph couldn't be healthy for him. Maybe Danny knew this, too, because he didn't fight when Vlad finally plucked the picture frame from his hand and laid it face down on the desk, where the photo it held couldn't be seen. Then he gently turned Danny around, stepped forward, and embraced him.

It was no surprise that Danny immediately tensed up in his arms. Of course that young mind was racing through all sorts of theories of what his "enemy" could be planning, and Vlad found himself thinking of the only time Daniel had embraced him, and that was to attach that gaudy-looking belt around his waist to short out his powers. It was a delightfully and irksomely underhanded move, not to mention an effective tactic, but backstabbing was not Vlad's intention today.

They stood just like that for some tense moments, Vlad's arms around Danny's shoulders in a loose hug. Danny never lifted his arms to return the embrace, but he didn't push away Vlad, either, who was half-expecting that ghost half of his to finally reappear and deliver a well-aimed ectoblast to his gut. At last, Danny's shoulders relaxed and he leaned inward slightly. His head landed over Vlad's breast pocket with the red handkerchief always tucked neatly away in it, his eyes falling closed.

That was a reassuring sign. "Chin up, Little Badger," Vlad murmured affectionately, placing a hand on top of Danny's messy black hair.

"Don't," Danny mumbled thickly into Vlad's suit. "You don't mean it."

Not for the people who had been taken from Daniel's life, no, he didn't.

But for Daniel, perhaps he did.


	2. Part 2: Five Empty Spaces

_This is definitely a ruminating piece, and a deep first look at what hopefully will become a larger project in a separate fic I'm tentatively calling _Ten Years Removed_. This second piece was tough to get "right," and I'm still not sure if I've succeeded; an angsty teenager tends to get a little long-winded, and his writer is still new at knowing how far he should go. Thank you for reading and leaving your reviews of encouragement and constructive criticism. I write fanfiction for your enjoyment and for mine._

Summary (for pt. 2): Danny told himself that he didn't want Vlad to care, because if Vlad cared, then nothing was staying the same.

Use of The Ultimate Enemy back story: the future where Jack, Maddie, Jazz, Sam, Tucker, and Mr. Lancer are killed and Danny is left with Vlad. The photograph and Vlad placing a hand on Danny's shoulder inspired this fic, with support from music by Josh Rouse ("Sad Eyes" and "Life"), Shivaree ("New Casablanca"), Psapp ("Upstairs"), and Sarah Mclachlan ("I Will Remember You.")

Disclaimer: Danny Phantom is owned by a certain Butch Hartman. That ain't me.

**How Much You Mean It**

-

**Five Empty Spaces**

Danny stood in front of his desk in his spacious new room, spending a lot of his time the same way he did most days now: gazing at a framed photograph in his hand. In it, a past version of himself stood outside Fenton Works with his family and friends on a nice day, beaming at the camera. From left to right: Dad, Mom, Jazz, himself, Tuck, Sam. The only picture of all of them that Danny had.

With a heavy heart, Danny flipped over the wooden frame and gazed at the back. No date anywhere. He only had a general idea of when the picture was taken. Had he already gotten his ghost powers by that time? He flipped over the frame again and squinted at the tiny version of himself in the photograph, as if maybe he could figure himself out just by looking really closely, but there was no way to tell. Finally, Danny pulled back, his heart sinking lower into his stomach. He couldn't help but notice how _happy _he and them all looked. He tried to imagine the feeling, but he couldn't remember what that happiness felt like anymore.

He really wished someone had printed a date on that photo.

Since all of them – his parents, his sister, his best friends - had gone, it was like a gaping vacuum had opened up in Danny's heart, sucking out every positive, energetic, happy emotion that he had ever had. These days he only felt loneliness, confusion, and anger…or else nothing at all.

His friends and family and himself smiled happily up at him from behind the glass.

"I miss you guys," Danny told them quietly.

There were two soft knocks on the door, but Danny didn't bother to make a move to answer it - his "visitor" would invite himself in anyway. Sure enough, there was a click and the sound of the knob turning a few seconds later, and the door opened quietly, slightly brushing against the carpet.

A month or two ago, it would've been easy for Danny to imagine that the person who came in to stand behind him was casting a large, menacing shadow over his smaller figure. Maybe he still was, but when Danny tried to reach out for that old chill he'd get when an enemy stood near, similar to his Ghost Sense going off, he encountered emptiness. Instead, his intuition simply felt a presence behind him, one that didn't unnerve him like it used to. Out of habit he glanced over his shoulder, and as expected, there stood a silver-haired man in his usual impeccable black suit.

Vlad Masters. Vlad Plasmius. Vlad the Fruitloop. Vlad-Who-Some-Days-Just-Couldn't-Take-a-Hint. Vlad the only other half ghost. Vlad, the only one Danny really had left.

Vlad was looking down at him solemnly - and a little sympathetically if Danny was desperate enough to believe it was there - and it was probably the most compassionate expression the teenager had ever seen the man wear. And he kept wearing it. There was none of the usual pompous, mocking, conceited look anywhere in the lines of his face or in his eyes. Was Vlad being...genuine? Danny couldn't trust himself or Vlad to be able to know, but if he was, Danny wasn't sure if he felt grateful, or annoyed, or simply as he always felt these days: at a loss.

Whatever it was, having Vlad looking at him like that - almost like he _understood -_ was discomforting, so Danny turned his gaze back to the photo in his hand, sensing Vlad was doing the same. After a moment, Danny lifted his hand and began to slowly trace over each person through the glass. He offered his own weak smile to all of their happy faces, remembering the times his Dad had pursued "The Ghost Boy," especially when he had that bounty on his head; the time he and his Mom meant to go to Florida together, but ended up in Colorado; the time Jazz had "run away" from home because they had fight; all the times he and Sam and Tuck had gone ghost fighting together.

Danny sighed heavily and closed his eyes. And Vlad was always involved. Why did he always have to be involved?

Maybe that meant Vlad would get what he was talking about if he decided to say something….assuming he cared. Danny wanted to cringe at the idea, but that crushing, suffocating feeling laid heavily on his chest was far worse, and he was desperate to get rid of it. He needed some way, any way, to make it just go away and leave him alone.

And just like that, Danny began talking.

"There won't be any more hugs from Mom," he said quietly, wondering just how far down he was to be telling Vlad about his personal life. "No more crazy ghost-tracking inventions from Dad, no more Jazz to always be nosing around in my business. No more movie marathons with Tucker, and no more Sam to give me advice on the right thing to do…."

Danny was going to say more but had to stop himself, unable to ignore the deepening ache that came with speaking these words and knowing that they were true. He tore his eyes away from the photo and stared unseeingly at the opposite wall, refusing to let Vlad - who was silently listening - see the resolve that hid his loneliness crumbling behind his eyes. In truth, the things he talked about weren't the only things he was missing. Like the hugs from his Mom that he would never have again, there would be no more spine-bending slaps on the back from Dad, no more having his hair fluffed up by Jazz when she was feeling affectionate. There would be no more rubbing elbows with Tucker, and no more having Sam place her hand over his.

Gestures of comfort, acceptance, and love. Things he missed a lot. Things he had taken for granted, after all.

Danny's eyes were irresistibly drawn back to the photograph, and he resumed gazing sadly at everyone in the picture he held, the painful void inside him widening again. 'You don't know what you got until it's gone' turned out to be true. It was bad enough knowing he'd never see them again, but they had also broken something when they'd left, and there was no one around to fix it.

"Daniel," Vlad finally spoke, and Danny felt one of his hands descend onto his shoulder. It was painfully reminiscent of the touches he was missing right at this moment, and of course Vlad didn't know that it split Danny's feelings right down the middle.

Vlad had given him a house - a home, even - after his family had died. With Vlad, his secret was safe. He gave Danny something no one else could give, and didn't have to do any of it. But he _had_ done it, and as far as Danny had seen, for once it was without some creepy ulterior motive as his reason.

Still, Danny remembered dully, if his Dad had been given a grave to be danced on, Vlad would've been the first one to do the honors. And somehow, he also doubted Vlad would have any lingering sentiments for Jazz, Tucker, or Sam. The only death Vlad had any heart to feel sorry about was Mom's, even though she was always far out of his league anyway.

These thoughts – these _truths _– brought to Danny a twinge among his usual emotions of confusion, loneliness, and sadness: a spark of anger. What was this all about? he began to wonder, annoyed. What had he been thinking? Wait, he hadn't been thinking. Vlad didn't really care about any of them. He didn't really understand the loss of love when he never had it in the first place. His gesture – coming up to him and laying a hand on his shoulder, supposedly sharing his melancholy – was probably hollow. A strong part in of Danny rose up into his throat in rejection, like sickness, and he irritably shrugged Vlad off.

"Forget it Vlad," he said tightly, turning his head further away, refusing to look at whom he was talking to. He was hurt, he was tired, and he wasn't interested in any sick game _Plasmius _might be playing or any of his half-assed attempts at reconciliation. "You don't mean it." Danny was sure of it. He clenched his hand around the framed photograph so hard his fingers were beginning to ache.

An equally tired sigh was the response he got. Vlad was probably thinking that he was being immature. "You should know better than to think that my actions are simply out of malice, Daniel," he pointed out. Danny was only able to shrug numbly, not knowing what to believe. The knot in his throat wasn't loosening.

Vlad seemed to have had enough then, because he reached over, took the picture from Danny's hand, and set it facedown on the nearby desk. Danny watched with melancholy but didn't resist, not even when Vlad turned him around so that they were finally face-to-face and…

…and put his arms around him.

Was Vlad actually…hugging him? Danny stiffened in surprise and wariness, and waited for the backstabbing he felt was sure to follow. After all, hadn't he, Danny, been the one who started the idea of offering a hug just to do something underhanded to his enemy? He thought of jumping away or going ghost to defend himself, maybe even both, but...Danny's shoulders abruptly sagged. He couldn't find the will to. He'd lost it before he'd even moved into this place.

Vlad must've taken his reaction as close enough to acceptance, because he silently encircled his arms more fully around his lanky teenager form, one of his hands splaying across his spine. Danny felt himself relax a little more, but he didn't return the hug. He simply stood there, taking it in, trying to get his mind around what was happening.

His next thought was that the whole thing was bizarre and awkward and somewhat uncomfortable, but he couldn't help but feel that it was a little bit of something he had been missing. So, after a brief hesitation, Danny leaned into Vlad slightly and rested his head against the red silk handkerchief that was always in his breast pocket. The smell of _Eau de Cologne _or something fancy like that faintly clung to Vlad's suit. A few strands of the billionaire's long, silvery hair tickled his neck. And his beard was kind of scratchy against his temple.

The little sorts of details that Danny treasured in people.

"Chin up, Little Badger," Vlad said softly to him, placing a hand on his head affectionately.

Danny tried to hate Vlad then, he really did. He wanted to yell and protest and blame him for...for the nickname, for trying to be a father figure, for caring, for pretending he cared. "Don't," he protested, but it was as weak as it sounded. "You don't mean it." Danny didn't want to be lied to, he didn't want Vlad to care. If Vlad cared, then nothing was staying the same.

But the old enmity that used to be shared mutually simply wasn't there anymore, and Danny felt the will to try to drudge something to replace it slipping away. His brief burst of anger was quickly fading, replaced by a familiar sadness that constantly hung around the corners of his mind and created shadows in the photograph that lay on the desk.

The photograph. The people in it. Mom. Dad. Jazz. Tuck. Sam. Danny's eyes closed and suddenly tears burned behind his eyelids. He wouldn't cry again right now. It was just a hug. He took a deep breath to calm himself, his shoulders rising, and shakily exhaled. A moment later, the hand against his back drifted to his arm and moved down it to meet his own hand, grasping it loosely. A hand in his. Danny hesitated again, but then his fingers slowly curled around the paler digits. Almost…comforting.

There would be no more hugs from Mom, no more spine-bending slaps on the back from Dad, no more having his hair fluffed up by Jazz when she was feeling affectionate. There would be no more rubbing elbows with Tucker, and no more having Sam place her hand over his. The loss of them and the things they used to do left five empty spaces in Danny's heart.

But maybe Vlad, he realized, could fill those spaces for him.

-

End.


End file.
